Mamori and the Evil Laptop of Doom
by forthelulz
Summary: Mamori always wondered what kind of unknown horrors lurked within Hiruma's laptop. He would never let anyone touch it nor use it. Now what would she do if it was left open for anyone to see? ONE SHOT, HiruMamo, Rated M for lots of swearing and nudity.


**MAMORI AND THE EVIL LAPTOP OF DOOM**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Eyeshield 21 yo**

They say that curiosity killed the cat or turned it into a certified Grade-A road kill.

That may be the case, but Mamori Anezaki could no longer deny the irresistible. It beckoned to her with its 15 inch LED screen, its bright light hypnotizing her to come nearer.

_Look at me_

It seduced her, filling her mind with such tempting thoughts.

_Come to me _

Who was she to refuse? Even with her almost non-existent computer skills, the Deimon team manager inherently knew that she could not resist this once in a lifetime opportunity.

Mamori quietly deposited her beloved mop against the wall. She walked on tipped toes, slowly pulled up a chair across the room, and sat in front of this technological wonder.

And then, as if remembering something important, she immediately turned her attention towards its owner.

Deimon Gakuen's resident devil slept soundly at the corner of the clubhouse room, his slim but muscular form casually slouched in his seat, his snores barely audible, and his spiky blonde head lolled uncomfortably to the side. Hiruma Yoichi still wore his muddied red and black Amefuto uniform, his scratched helmet discarded idly on the concrete floor; Toned muscled arms tightly hugged a newly polished AK-47 submachine gun like a fluffy security blanket.

Hiruma looked quite innocent in his slumber but Mamori knew too well of the dire consequences if she would ever be caught red handed.

A dastardly image of the Devil's Handbook flashed before her eyes.

Mamori gulped guiltily.

"I am not afraid of him" she told herself reassuringly, a faint pinkish blush colouring her cheeks.

Yes, she does not fear him. He was only human after all.

But then again, there's nothing wrong with being a little bit careful now, eh?

She observed him for a few more minutes, noting the even rhythm of his breathing, and made sure that he did not stir. Only after then did she take the courage to look at the laptop's wide panoramic screen.

"Now where to start looking" Mamori whispered. Her fingers itched frantically in excitement, wanting to start the snooping around business as soon as possible.

Mamori smiled sweetly as her bright blue eyes caught sight of the wallpaper. A blazing red Deimon Devilbat designed against a pitch black background. Bright white letters spelled "WIN MOTHERFUCKERS!" underneath.

It was bold, gritty and extremely the way Hiruma would have wanted it.

The desktop was meticulously organized. She smothered a giggle when she saw the cartoon scribbles of the Devilbat team's disembodied heads. Hiruma cleverly utilized them for desktop icons (Taki was the Recycle Bin). And there, situated next to Hiruma's devilish face, was a caricature of her own with the words 'TOP SECRET' written right below it.

Oh that's interesting!

Her eyes lighted up in excitement. She double clicked the icon right away.

"YA-HA! PASSWORD! YA-HA!" the laptop's speakers screamed. Mamori's whole body twitched in alarm.

"Oh no! Please be quiet!" she whispered nervously. She took a quick glance towards Hiruma and looked on in absolute horror as the Deimon Devilbat team captain shifted restlessly in his sleep.

"Please do not let him wake! Please! Please!"

Mamori tried to cover the speakers with her palms in an attempt to nullify the noise. When it didn't work, she quickly clicked whatever damn button she could get her hands on.

Finally, the noise broke off into silence.

She hurriedly peered towards Hiruma's position.

The blonde demon snored loudly in his corner. Hiruma did not wake.

Mamori breathed a big sigh of relief. She could feel her heart beat loudly within her chest. That was close! Like a really close to doomsday kind of close.

"_Baka!_" She mentally berated herself "_It wouldn't be called Top Secret if it would be easy to open!_"

She pouted her lips in apprehension.

This might not be a good idea after all.

Scratch that! This might be the stupidest idea a computer noob would have ever thought! Non-existent technological skills be damned!

Her quick brain deduced the possibility that all the other folders were also password protected. After all, Hiruma normally acted like a mysterious secretive asshole. Not only that, he's also a notorious computer hacking bastard. That, my friends, was _not_ the best combination. He probably would have taken great lengths to protect his important files and his porn.

Oh yes, his porn. *wink* *wink*

How foolish of her to think that it would be easy!

She nearly thought of abandoning her silly quest when something caught her attention.

There, in the lower left corner of the screen, was a hidden window she barely noticed before. The tab had a miniscule logo of a red fox with the words 'www. 2chan .net' written beside it.

Without a second thought, Mamori clicked the tab. The window maximized into full view.

And then she immediately wished that she could un-see what she had just seen.

"S…S…S... SENA-KUN!" Mamori blurted out in shock, her small hands clutched at her chest.

The young girl gawked at a hand drawn sketch. It was a little bit smudged but still accurately detailed. The scrawny naked form of her childhood friend lay leisurely beside Shin Seijuro's muscular body. Sena's eyes were shut close, his cheeks flamed crimson and his moist lips parted a bit. The line backer's big strong hand wandered below, his fingers curling around the small boy's delicate…

"OH MY!" Mamori blushed beet red. She shook her head deliberately in an attempt to erase it from her memory. But it was too late. The damage has already been done. Dousing copious amounts of Instant Brain BleachTM on her brain can't help her now.

It felt like watching a train wreck. She wanted to look away but found that she couldn't. It captivated yet disgusted her.

The fact that it wasn't the only scandalous picture there didn't help either.

She pushed the PAGE DOWN button and the webpage scrolled downward. To her disbelief it revealed more perverted drawings. Some were sketched with charcoal pencils and others painted with bright watercolours.

All made her wish that she could drown herself in Holy Water.

Oh Kami-sama who lives in the heavens above!

She'll go to straight to hell for staring far too long at Akaba's bare gym sculpted abdomen, at the electric guitar that he molested so lovingly, and the bright red sequined thong that scarcely covered his enormous bulge and tight ass.

Or maybe she'll be roasted to a crisp in the hellfire for ogling at a sketch of Shin, Sakuraba and Takami - making a very enthusiastic 'man train' in the Ojou White Knights shower room.

Oh baby!

Oh wait.

What the hell was she thinking?

Bad Mamori.

Curb those kinky thoughts Mamori.

Stop wondering how Sakuraba could twist his body to such a difficult position.

Stop pondering why Kotarou worshipped that dazzling red thong with his lecherous gaze.

Look away.

And don't even try to scroll down again to look for mo – Oops, too late.

But then again, maybe she should have listened to her inner voice of reason for the next set of pictures mentally scarred her for life.

"EHHHH?" she exclaimed loudly "DOBUROKU-SENSEI AND GUNPEI-SAN?"

She felt bile rise up in her throat as she gagged. 'Wrinkly' would be the perfect word to describe it. Eww.

The innocent girl felt shocked, traumatized even. She hardly noticed anything else until a familiar masculine voice quietly whispered to her ear…

"Your nose is bleeding"

"Huh?" Mamori fixed a quizzical stare at the calloused hand that suddenly appeared in front of her, offering a clean white handkerchief. She innocently wondered who the kind concerned man might be until common sense hit her hard.

Slowly, she turned herself around.

Then she saw a familiar evil smirk and a shiny compact digital camera.

*click*

*click*

*click*

Oh shit.

"Hiruma-san!" she stammered "I… I…"

"I didn't know that fucking discipline committee members liked to look at prune skinned old men bonking each other ke ke ke" The blonde quarterback mocked as he pocketed the small camera, hiding it away from Mamori's reach. He stood right beside his prey and particularly enjoyed the way the brown haired girl squirmed uncomfortably under his scrutinizing gaze.

"No!" Mamori claimed "You got it all wrong!"

She wanted to melt into the floor, to disappear from the face of the earth or to just to be erased from life's very existence.

Hiruma caught her in the bloody act – and took pictures.

Oh how she wanted to scream!

She tried to explain that she didn't mean to look or to click that little tab and that it wasn't her fault that it instantly showed her that scary website.

Then Mamori suddenly realized something that might get her out of this bloody mess. Her eyes narrowed as she glared back at her tormentor.

"Wait a minute Hiruma-san!" she huffed "That is unfair!"

"And why would it be unfair fucking manager?" he cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Well, I'm not the one who visited a gay porn site in the first place" She said in a sing song voice then smiled haughtily at him.

"Hiruma-san, would you kindly care to explain why _your_ laptop was logged on to that disgusting website?"

That shut up Hiruma for a bit. It seemed that his prim and proper manager just learned the fine art of sarcasm. Damn.

He spoke again, this time he held a serious expression on his face.

"Simple" he said nonchalantly "For blackmail and fangirl fodder"

"Eh?"

His smirk turned into a shark-like grin. "Ever heard of a fucking Fujoshi, Ms. Know-It-All?"

"What exactly are you talking about Hiruma-san?"

"Oh you know," he twiddled his thumbs and looked upwards; biting sarcasm obvious in his tone "The kind of girl who fucking nosebleeds when she looks at naked men fucking each other ke ke ke ke"

"My nose isn't bleeding!" Mamori exclaimed defiantly.

"Are you fucking sure?" Hiruma grinned, flashing her with his pearly white pointy teeth. He then dabbed his handkerchief under her nose and presented the 'evidence' to a painfully embarrassed Mamori.

The blonde teenager bowed. "I rest my case"

Mamori scowled. She felt uncomfortable and wanted to swipe that annoying grin off Hiruma's face. She questioned him further.

"But why do you even visit these kinds of websites?"

Hiruma rolled his eyes "Are you not fucking listening to me?"

"But I don't understand…"

He swore out loud and glared at her as he ran his fingers through his spiky hair. He hated reasoning out twice.

Once is enough. Explaining it for a second time would be a damn freaking pain in the ass.

"I print them then distribute them to the fucking fangirls and in exchange they give me valuable information. Got it?"

That made sense. Most fangirls lacked functioning brain parts anyway. They wouldn't even realize that they the devil conned them to work as counter spies. Bribing and coercing the innocents would be a piece of cake to this seasoned conman.

Even with such a logical explanation, Mamori didn't want to give up her stance. She pouted defiantly and tried to push the blame back at him.

"Maybe you like looking at those pictures" she accused.

Hiruma snarled. Something snapped within him.

Why the hell does he need to explain his blackmailing ways when it was HIS laptop that she touched without his prior permission in the first place? Fuck!

Oh yes, he felt furious and, in retaliation, he fished the camera out of his pocket and shoved it to her face.

"Do you want me to post your fucking picture on the internet with your oh-so-obvious nosebleed just to prove my fucking point?" He mocked.

Mamori fidgeted in her seat as fear suddenly overcame her senses.

Oh god, she forgot about the pictures.

And it did show a pretty sharp shot her bloody nose and the wretched picture old geezers in background. There was no way in hell that Hiruma would let her be after this. He just had to post it in some website somewhere and her squeaky clean reputation will be smashed to smithereens.

The battle of wills had ended. Mamori would either endure public humiliation or admit defeat. She felt cornered, vulnerable and afraid.

"Please Yoichi" she mumbled, her eyes downcast. Hiruma looked at her in mild surprise. For the first time, Mamori called him by his given name. "I'm sorry that I looked at your laptop. I didn't mean to pry. Please erase those pictures."

"No"

She tilted her head upwards and looked at him pleadingly.

"Fuck NO"

Then tears began to form in her eyes.

The quarterback raised his eyebrow but this time a definite frown graced his features. He pursed his lips, gritted his teeth then swore under his breath.

"Fine!" he finally said after minutes of strained silence "I'll fucking delete the fucking pictures. I'll let it go only for this one time but in return you have to…"

Hiruma bended down a bit and whispered what he wanted.

The young girl's eyes widened at the odd request. Hiruma turned away from her and unplugged his laptop. He then carried the damn thing out of the room and slammed the clubhouse' front door behind him.

Mamori's gaze lingered at the closed door. She rubbed her eyes, removed remnants of her tears and tried to remember what he last said.

_Make a fucking bento for me on every damn day for the rest of our fucking high school life._

He didn't even ask properly. He practically demanded it.

And despite all that happened, Mamori smiled and felt a bit warm inside.

Meanwhile, in a deserted classroom somewhere in Deimon High School, Hiruma Yoichi swore loudly to one but himself.

"Fucking manager"

He re-opened his laptop.

"Fucking weakness"

He closed the web browser tab for the Yaoi ridden webpage, only to reveal another hidden page behind it. This time the drawings consisted of a familiar looking young blonde man hugging a certain pretty brown haired girl. Clothes not included.

"And fucking tears"

He saved a few pictures to his password protected folder before clearing his browsing history and online private data.

Then he thanked the football gods for her non-existent computer skills.

Thank the football gods indeed.

THE END

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**Ah! I finally finished this fanfic after two long weeks of procrastination. I've been busy with work and actually forgot that I owned a account, silly me.**

**To think about it, the last time I tried to write a fanfic was last year. EPIC FAIL. I tried to write the next chapter of "The Fortune Cookie Chronicles" but I lost interest in it or maybe I was just too insecure about my horrendous writing style. Yes, I think I'm a bad writer. I'll get better hopefully.**

**Anyway, the idea for this fic had been swirling in my thoughts for quite some time. I've always imagined Hiruma to be a frequent visitor of 2channel, the Japanese equivalent of the notorious English based 4chan. He's an asshole. He likes computers. You get my drift.**

**And since the mangaka of Eyeshield 21 portrayed Mamori as a girl who is a bit clueless about computers, I'm pretty sure that she wouldn't even know how to use Mozilla Firefox's web browser tab function. Thus pretty little Mamori did not find out about Hiruma's hidden stash of porn. Tee hee.**

**I'm afraid I made both of the characters a bit OOC though. Ah well, I loved the fic anyway. I'm thinking of making a part 2. Maybe. With Mamori bringing Hiruma her home made bento. Ohohohoho. Let's see if I'll get that started or maybe I'll try to continue my other fic.**

Long author's notes is long. That's it for now. Thank you for reading! Comments and constructive criticisms are welcome.


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